


Oops.

by orphan_account



Series: Smutty Adventures of Birb Mage and Nightlight [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: All dirty sexy fluffy smut here, Anal Sex, Everyone but Varric want's a piece of the Fenders booty, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hawke and Isabela are dork's, I like to think I make a good Purple!Hawke, M/M, Merrill's not as innocent as believed, Smut, Varric's the only one with any brains, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer in Kirkwall is hitting hard today, and everyone may or may not be proverbially dying to the heat. Hawke decides it's a good day to stick some bad guys and cool off in the waters of the Wounded Coast.</p><p>Visiting Anders to sweep him out of his clinic results in an interesting surprise. Anders and Fenris remain unaware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oops.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo....
> 
> This has kind of turned into a series now. I have great ideas for more of these two in this particular... whatever this is, and by flipping god am I loving these characters. All of them. Enjoy!

A hot and humid day in Kirkwall, and it was in Hawke's opinion, the best day to drag everyone to the Wounded Coast to pound some slavers and bandits into the sand, and take a dip in the water after. The clever rogue managed to coax his girlfriend Merrill and their servant Orana to prepare a picnic - not that it was hard in the first place to ask such - while he went out to round up the gang. Aveline and Donnic were unable to leave their posts with the pressuring threat of Meredith looming on the Guard, and just one look at the Chantry was enough for him to whistle inconspicuously as he puttered away to check again on Fenris' mansion to see if the elf would respond to his knocking. There was still no answer, and Hawke sighed, pondering where he might of gone. _Anders clinic_. Yep, no question. Not after last week when both appeared coming up from the wine cellar passage asking for the guest bedroom.

Hawke flitted through Lowtown next, swooping in on the Hanged Man where Isabela was, as usual, flaunting her bosom at a group of men she was enthusiastically drinking under the table for coin. For every shot they took, she revealed a little more skin, and it wasn't long till her shoulders were bare and dangerously close to exposing her breasts entirely. The men, enraptured in their drunken states, fell easy prey to the display she openly presented, and never noticed a young urchin pilfering their pockets and belts for anything he could get his hands on. Knives and coin pouches made up most of the contents in his sack, but there were also nondescript bundles that slipped out of sight from their person's.

Noting Hawke as he casually rested against a wooden beam in her line of sight, Isabela downed her shot and cleared her throat, tugging her sleeves back up and fixing her top to hide her preferred amount of cleavage. The urchin stole away quickly in understanding, scurrying unnoticed to Varric's room as per usual after one of these games, eager to find out how much of the cut he would be taking home this time.

"Sorry to cut this short boys, but trouble just strolled in and he doesn't like to wait; I'm sure you understand," Isabela quipped in a mock sigh of disappointment, smoothing out her corset and tugging the little pauldron on her shoulder back up.

"That's it? After all that? We didn't throw down a fortune on a tab just for you to back out the last minute," one of the men snapped incredulously, arms splayed out in confusion.

"You owe us, ya blighted whore," a gruff, grizzled man growled, voice rough and deep.

Isabela placed her hands delicately on her hips, cocking her head to the side. "Owe? Oh no, you willingly accepted the challenge and none of us have passed out yet, so technically I owe no one anything," she silver-tongued sweetly.

"Uh-huh. Sorry lass, but ya ain't slithering out of this one. Boys?" The look on all the four men engaged in the contest with her turned predatory, and they made to draw their weapons, but found empty sheaths where they should be.

"The fuck they went?" one of the men said, rifling through his clothes. The others were doing the same, patting themselves down.

"You're all too bloody drunk for a knife fight, probably best they've all gone and slipped into hiding for your sakes. Nothing's worst than forgetting which part of the blade you're supposed to be holding." Smirking, Isabela drew her own pair and twirled them in her hands, shooting a sharp, challenging look at them. "Unfortunately for you, what the Hanged Man's got is nothing compared to any number of fine Rivaini liqueurs. I barely have a buzz."

Just as it looked like they were convincing themselves they had strength in numbers, a whistle from behind drew their attention to a mildly amused Hawke - ever the show off with his hands - idly juggling his own unsheathed, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

It was several moments yet before the group chose the wiser option and shuffled out, Corff barking at them and the hefty tab they left behind.

"That's goin' on yours, pirate," he huffed crossly, glaring his own daggers at the Rivaini.

"Oh yes yes, of course," Isabela waved her hand dismissively, slipping her blades away. She curled a finger at Hawke, leading him to Varric's room who was counting out and organizing the pilfered loot into piles with the young boy responsible.

"Good haul, this one. Hm? Ah, Hawke, good to see ya." Motioning for them to sit down, Varric inspected the coins for their quality, ensuring any fake trash was separated from the good.

"Good to see you too, Varric. Now, proposition. Kirkwall's bloody blazing hotter than Andraste's pyre, I got Merrill and Orana packing lunch, and there's a likely chance we'll have more opportunity to relieve lowlifes of their very much not-earned belongings," Hawke said, quickly cutting to the chase. "A day down the Wounded Coast is exactly what we need, and I'm not going to take no for an answer, unless the fate of the city rests on you staying put on that chiseled ass of yours."

"Chiseled ass? Really, Hawke? Well, thanks for the compliment... I think." Chuckling to himself, Varric sighed and straightened up in his chair. "Right, well, I guess I could use a dip, it'd be good to smell clean sea air over old fish and weeks old piss. Here, don't worry about the rest, alright kid?" The dwarf poured a handful of coin from the approved pile into a large coin pouch and handed it to him, sending the youth on his way with a pat on the shoulder.

"Day at the beach? With Kitten and _mmm_ Anders and Fenris again? I could ogle them for hours and never tire of it," Isabela purred.

Hawke chuckled, hooking an arm around the woman and pulling her close. "You and me both. On that note, been a while since you've been over, should come by tonight afterwards. Maker knows Merrill would love it."

"Oh, maybe I will." The tone she used was sinfully low, a finger tracing along the shell of Hawke's ear.

"Whoa whoa, not in my room you ain't," Varric protested, sliding everything into bags and storing them away. "C'mon, let's go, hup two," he ushered them out, grabbing what necessities he would need.

They headed to Darktown now, weaving through crowded alleys till wafting salty air struck them, blowing up from the water to cleanse - if only briefly at a time - the wretched smell of all things deplorable and unseemly from the sea's surface. Cooler than further in the city, it was no less sweltering, and they hoped that their stay would be short.

"Aaandeers," Hawke sing-songed, entering the clinic when he found the door gave away easily. The light was out, but that didn't necessarily mean the man wasn't accepting of company if it was unlocked. He knocked before he had though, at least. Muffled noises through the door told him Anders was inside, and given the way they would suddenly cut off or vary in volume, he figured it was a frustrated rant over the manifesto he frequently poured his all into or a bloodstain that wouldn't wash out.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Hhh - _H-aahhh_ , F-Fen, Fen fuck, yes," a high voice sounding far too similar to be Anders to be coincidence panted out from somewhere in the clinic. A low rich growl accompanied a string of breathy low keens and mewls.

"Oh! You're here too, love! Issy, Varric," Merrill called out with a wave from behind the group who hadn't yet made it past the threshold. "I figured I would check for you if Anders would be free to go to the beach, and give him a bite to eat if not." Big curious green eyes turned their attention to beyond the doorway as long slender ears swiveled forward, catching the sounds from within. "Ah, why are we standing outside, and what's going on inside?"

"Delicious things, Kitten. C'mon, I gotta see this," Isabela said, taking Merrill's hand and sneaking inside.

"W-Wait, I--." Hawke cut off, admittedly just as curious for the exact same reason the pirate was looking for the source of the noise. Only, he knew _who_ was drawing such sounds from the mage; Isabela didn't. Nor Varric. He hadn't told anyone, and only Merrill knew because they lived together in his estate. _We're all going to die_ , he thought to himself, losing the battle of will and following behind with grace his size belied.

"Incredible, the only one not creeping on the I hope is a happy couple back there is the one that writes Maker-damned smut for a living," Varric rolled his eyes, entering just enough to at least shut the door behind them. He may not be one to watch them in their throes of passion, but this could prove to be good material for later.

Isabela was the first to discover the noise was behind a curtain that separated the rooms, and cautiously peeked in to see those in question turned away, but not quite, from the entryway. Eyes widening in shock, a cheshire grin spread over her face, and she practically radiated excitement from the sight. Merrill peeked in from the other side of the curtain, and Hawke peeked in above Isabela.

Sitting on the floor in front of a simple scarcely used sturdy bed in a heap of blankets, Anders was straddling Fenris backwards, leaning forward with his forearms resting on the mattress as he bounced on the elf's lap. Fenris had an arm wrapped around the man's hips out of sight, but at certain moments when Anders shifted, lyrium lined fingers could be seen stroking the mage's thick shaft; the other hand tangled in mussed blond locks, twisting and pulling the man's head back before massaging the area fondly and repeating the action over.

The sound of sweat and oil-slicked skin slapping against each other punctuated the heavy breaths and groans of the two lovers; Fenris thrusting hard and fast into Anders welcoming body as the pliant mage met each thrust half-way, dropping onto the elf's lap with dead weight before picking himself back up again.

"So good for me. You love being impaled on my cock, don't you," Fenris rumbled out in a sultry tone, pulling Anders' hair.

Anders gasped, gripping the bare mattress as his cock throbbed in Fenris' hand. "Maker yes, I love it. Love your cock inside me. Feels so good, you fill me so perfectly," he confessed immediately with abandon.

"We... We should probably ah, go... Leave them be and-- oh Creators..." Merrill stammered out softly, barely a whisper Hawke and Isabela picked up on. The display of shining sweat slicked skin, the dirty talk, and heady smell of sex was beginning to make her writhe on the spot. She felt the tips of her ears burn, even. With the noise and sensations filling Fenris' and Anders' minds, she went unnoticed by the two, and the Dalish exhaled a quiet breath of relief. From their side of the curtain, she was toying with the elbow guard of Hawke's armor, trying to get his attention.

Isabela was transfixed and unblinking, her own backside shifting as her thighs rubbed together. It must be her nameday in someone's calendar for this to really be happening. Hawke swallowed and, with great reluctance, tore his gaze away and inched back. He liked his heart right where it was, and Maker have mercy should they be caught. Sense finally won, and he - with monumental awkwardness in these bloody tight pants - dragged the two women away from the curtain.

"Oh c'mon, they looked like they were just getting to the good part!" Isabela protested in hushed tones. She was quiet, she wouldn't get caught. And even if she had been, well, surely she could convince them into a threesome? She sighed wistfully at the thought.

"We've already intruded more than we should of. I'm going to leave a note under the door, and we're going back to the estate. Varric, come by my place in an hour," Hawke explained, nipping a scrap of parchment to hastily write on before pushing everyone out the door. Using his lock pick tools, he fiddled with the clinic door's lock till he heard the click, and tested it to find it was now locked as intended. A small courtesy for the two, and for any who happened to wander up here. The note was slipped underneath, and that was that.

"I-I - _hhmm_ \- think I heard people talking, we locked the door, right?" Anders managed out in between panting breaths.

"I do not believe anyone would enter when the light is out," Fenris replied, swirling his thumb around the head of Anders' length in the precome leaking from the tip. It earned him a wanton keen that sent the man's body jerking forwards. The elf growled and pulled Anders closer by his hair, just enough pain in it to coax him to release the bed and press against his chest.

"Hawke-- Hawke walks in. So does I-Isa-- _ahh,_ Maker yes, right there, Fenris!" Anders writhed above his lover, pleasure racing up his spine as the change in angle allowed Fenris' cock to grind against his prostrate better. He felt the strong arm release his hair, lyrium-etched skin tingling pleasantly across his jaw where the hand remained, cupping it firmly.

"They would do well to leave us," Fenris growled, turning his mage's head to nip and gnaw at an earlobe, grunting in effort and hunger for more of the growing tension building in his groin.

Deciding if the man was to speak, that it should only be pleading and pleasure, he slipped a pair of fingers inside Anders' mouth, stroking the man's tongue. He pounded harder into the tight slick heat he was so greedily taking his carnal desires from, reveling in the way their soaked fire-hot skin slid against each other, the rivulets of sweat running down their bodies. While his mage eagerly sucked his fingers, feeling the energy that was Justice beneath the pads, Fenris began to lick the sweat off the pale skin before him.

Long drags of his tongue lapped up the salty fluid, tasting the musky tang that he had begun to identify as simply Anders. Anders, a man of many smells and tastes, he was beginning to find. The mage often smelled of elfroot and pungent sweat-- sometimes from work, often from stress. His hands smelled of ink, parchment, and old vellum. He hadn't yet been near when Justice would reveal himself as the... _spirit_ seemed to settle down when he and Anders were together under intimate or domestic terms, and didn't know if the mage would smell different from the magic. If he had to be honest with himself, he preferred it this way.

Lost in everything _Anders_ , Fenris was suddenly pulled from his reverie to a pair of hands clutching his thighs and the mage beginning to take control of the pace, breaking rhythm as he rode the elf faster. The man's movements were becoming sporadic, breath shallowing, and the velvet passage Fenris' length filled began to clench tighter.

"Fe-e-nris, please move your blighted hand," Anders rasped, voice husky from exertion. Fenris restarted the motion without hesitation, not realizing he had even stopped pumping the mage's cock with his fist.

Slowing down a bit, Fenris sucked red welts into the back of the man's neck, letting them trail down from the hairline to his back, and then over a shoulder, where he grazed his teeth with a feral rumble. "I love the sounds you make when you're like this. Compliant, willing; eager to be fucked into the Void and beyond," he grunted out, thrusting hard into Anders' velvet passage in emphasis, causing the mage to cry out through his saliva-soaked fingers. He licked and suckled at the back of the man's neck, hot breath on already burning hot skin. "You're going to come, but I am not going to stop. I will take my pleasure from your tight hole through your orgasm, and then I will stop to clean and cool us off. Then I will continue, over and over again, one orgasm after another until you are wrung dry and begging for my come," he murmured thickly, his already rich and smooth voice dripping with lust.

"Fuck, fuck, yes! Please, Maker-- your voice, Fen," Anders moaned wantonly, arching his back. "I'll take all of it, anything, just please don't stop."

"As you wish, Anders," he rumbled, gripping the man's jaw firmly as he resumed thrusting in powerful motions into him, holding on as hard as he could from his own precarious edge. His mage's cries began to raise in volume again, breath hard and fast, muscles tightening.

Anders didn't try to tap the fire in his veins down, didn't try to stem the tide. He let it all go, the tension snapping cleanly, and his shout was deafening in his ears as he spilled himself onto his lap. Fenris as promised, didn't stop as ripples of their passions wracked him, the overstimulation overwhelming, and he let out a choked sob, jerking as his muscles and nerves spasmed. The elf slowly came to a halt, teetering on the edge by the skin of his teeth, but he managed to hold back.

"You did well, Anders. You did very well," Fenris cooed softly, petting the mage's shoulder softly and kissing the back of his head while ignoring the aching throbbing between his legs. He was by no means yet soft and doting, but he was keen to reinforce that the mage was safe. The warrior lifted the man up and laid down on the bed, cuddling and resting in the afterglow of Anders' release until he had enough strength in his legs to walk over to the wash basin they filled earlier that day to keep cool. He washed his mage down with a wet cloth before settling a clean wet towel under his neck and on his forehead, then washed himself before lying comfortably beside.

"I bet you're wishing now that you had Warden stamina," Anders teased with a chuckle, rolling onto Fenris' lap with the towel under his neck now around it.

"Yes and no. I would enjoy the benefits of such endurance, but I do not have desire, nor am I under threat, to become a Grey Warden," Fenris replied flatly, lazily stroking the mage's thighs. "I would not be averse to resume our coupling if you intend to continue in this position, however."

"Mmm, I just might," the mage smirked, casting a bit of slick in his hand to smear around and inside himself, then Fenris' cock before lowering himself back down on it. "Oh yes, Maker's breath I really do love the way you fit inside me, Fen," he moaned low, giving an experimental rock of his hips. Fenris pushed his head back into the mattress, gripping Anders' thighs and pushing himself deeper in; the mostly-hard length pulsating with renewed life and interest.

It was hours between their passionate _fucking_ and passing out asleep afterwards before they found the note, but neither of them found it in them to care about missing a day on a bandit and slaver-riddled beach.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, and are what fuels my muse to continue wanting writing these dorks :)
> 
> I guess since I've already said I have a tumblr, that I should jot down what it is lmao. I have it up in my profile, but I am lord-of-the-gay-trash over there 'case you want to follow me


End file.
